The Rest Of Our Lives
by Loves Ironic Tragedy
Summary: I wanted to be with him forever, but forever would mean the rest of my life. And the rest of my life might not be that long. - Mello/Matt. Kind of Matt-centric.


**The Rest of Our Lives  
**

I don't want to look at his face. I don't want to see the tears etched on his cheeks.

I caused that. I know I did.

He always did his jobs without leaving tracks to follow, but I followed him as much as he followed me.

All this time I waited. I didn't want to get him involved unless I knew I needed to.

I could never do that to Matt. He was the best fucking guy in the world. What I was doing was killing me and if he died because of me, I wouldn't know what to do.

I'm standing here, begging him in my mind to close the door and shut me out of his life.

I'm standing here, begging him in my heart to let me back into his arms—the arms that I misguidedly left.

The smart thing for him to do would be get rid of me, kick me out, tell me to go burn in hell since that was already the plan.

The smart thing for him to do and what I wanted him to do were two totally different things and I couldn't help but loathe myself for letting this happen. I probably shouldn't have blown up the hideout. I know I have burns that are going to scar and they hurt like a bitch. I know I have to get these all cleaned up and fixed or else they're going to get infected and that'll only make the whole thing worse.

_You still have a chance to run, Mello_, I remind myself. _He hasn't answered the door yet. Now's your chance. If you're going to leave, do it now! _

My feet were glued to his doorstep. I couldn't move. Literally, I could not bring myself to move even the slightest bit. I felt that if I did, it would be the worst mistake ever.

_The mistake was coming here in the first place you little shit._

Shut the fuck up. What do you know?

_This is a bad idea, Mello. I just know it. You're going to regret this for the rest of your life._

If I don't do this then I'm probably not going to have much more of a life. I'll die soon enough. I need help.

_You made it this far without him. Why do you want to destroy the record?_

Because I fucking—

The door opened. A startled look was on the face of the guy in front of me. At least I _thought _it was startled; messy red bangs were covering his eyes along with a pair of familiar (but really fucking gay) orange goggles. He was wearing a red and black striped shirt that was wrinkled as what and a pair of faded black jeans. He didn't have shoes on, just dirty gray socks.

"—love him!" I finally completed my thought…

Not exactly how I pictured completing it, but Matt didn't seem to mind. "Y…You're alive…"

Something about those words panged me in my chest. My heart beat a little faster. My thoughts moved a little faster. My emotions were running wild.

I was alive.

I was with Matt again.

Two things that I wanted so badly for such a long time and I got them both.

Score!

I managed to get all of my ailments under control just enough to sound somewhat normal.

"You're a pain in the ass to keep track of, you know that? You don't leave any traces of your existence behind anywhere. Almost like a shadow," I told him. Something upsetting flashed in his eyes for a moment, but he quickly picked it up. The shadow thing must've struck a nerve. He was so sensitive about it.

"You're fucking _alive!_ I thought you were dead!" he exasperated, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, even if they only stayed out for a second.

I looked down at myself sheepishly. "So did I," I muttered.

I forgot that my hood was over the left side of my face. He couldn't see the burn yet. I pulled the hood down. His eyes went wide.

"I need help," I admitted.

"I wonder why. You could've died. You should be happy that this is all that happened," he said, opening his door all the way and letting me in.

He had really moved up from the last time I saw him. This was the first time I'd ever been to his new apartment. It was messy, but in a cozy way. Things felt just as cramped as the old apartment, but he learned to manage space better. The walls were white; the flooring was all gray of different shades and different materials.

"You don't know the half of it," I snorted.

He raised an eyebrow as I took of my jacket. Under that I still had to get my shirt off. I really didn't want to since I hadn't even seen that yet, but judging by Matt's reaction to my face, this was going to be a whole lot worse. "Wanna give me a hand here?"

"Sure," he said agreeably. He walked over like he was going to take my shirt off, but I stopped him. "What?"

"Get scissors."

"Why?"

"Don't question, just get scissors," I ordered.

He obediently went into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors. When he came back, I showed him exactly where _not_ to cut. He asked me why, but I told him he'd see and he accepted that.

After about five minutes of quiet- quiet that Matt definitely didn't enjoy –he finally managed to get all of my shirt cut off other than that was over the burn. Slowly as he began to peel it off, his eyes grew wider and wider. The pain in my side made me want to scream bloody murder.

Picture ripping off a hot-glued Band-Aid with all the force and strength you have, but the pain not going away after a few minutes. Imagine it not letting up, just getting worse.

It's not exactly how it feels, but it'll do to give you an idea.

That's right, an idea- a very, very rough idea.

"Holy shit Mel! You completely… Shit! You really got burned badly!"

"Tell me something I don't know, hon. I don't need to hear it. It hurts like a bitch. Just get all the pieces off. I don't want it melting into my skin or something like that," I said, trying to keep my voice normal. The pain from having the pieces peeled off made me wince every couple of seconds. I wanted to scream so fucking loud that everyone would know I was in pain.

Not even a good pain.

Just pain.

"Yeah, that would suck. I'll clean it once I get everything else off," he said.

"You have shit for this?"

"Yes…?"

"Why?"

"Smoking incident- I forgot to put it out."

I rolled my eyes. "I swear I warned you about that a million times, yet you still let it happen?"

"So what if I did? No one stopped me."

Ouch. Cheap shot.

"I would've stopped you."

"But you didn't. It's over. Drop it."

"I _could've_ stopped you…" I murmur, realizing how horrible I've been.

"No, Mel, you couldn't have."

"I _should've_ stopped you…"

"Mel! I told you to drop it, okay? It's over. It already happened. You can't fix it!" He ripped a piece of my shirt off like a band-aid—quickly and painfully.

A sharp pain hits me along with a well-needed scream. "OH FUCK!"

"Shit. Sorry," Matt mutters, dropping his hands to his side.

The pain doesn't stop. "Holy… Mother fucking… Stupid fucking… Shit…"

Matt rubs his forehead and scratches his ear like he really wishes he couldn't hear me swearing. I wish the same exact thing, feeling bad that I'm already aggravating him even though I haven't seen him in months. I wish I could go back to the last time I saw him; the time that we were together for what felt like forever, but it was only a few days.

Those were the best days I have had in a long time.

"Can you stop fucking swearing, Mel? You're making me real nervous right now," Matt pleads, going back to work.

"Sor-shit!-ry. I can't help it."

He looks up at me queerly, daring me to try and stop.

"F-fine."

I have a sudden revelation. It stems from nowhere, but it really does not matter because the thoughts are already racing through my head incoherently. I piece them together carefully and this is what I get:

I love Matt.

I want Matt.

I want Matt forever.

I should marry Matt.

Matt should marry me.

We should be together.

I should quit the god damn Fie case so I can _be _with Matt forever.

But mostly I just want him mine and no one else's for the rest of time.

This is all because I blew one half of my face off. I am thinking about what would have happened if I died? What would happen to Matt? How would he feel? Shit, how would I feel if Matt tried what I did? I spend all this time away from him that I really don't want to, but I do it anyway. I need to stay with him.

My last nearly-coherent thought:

I need him.

"Hey Matt," I say, an enthusiastic smile creeping onto my face despite the pain in my body. I immensely want to run around screaming with random exuberant joy that comes from absolutely nowhere.

"Yes?" he responds solemnly, continuing with his job.

"Let's get married."

Matt fumbles with the scissors in his hand and catches them before he accidentally cuts me open worse than I already am. He looks at me like _what the fuck…_

"What are you talking about?" he asks, eyebrows shooting up.

"You heard me. Marry me. I want you now and always and I refuse to let anyone ever take you from me and if they try," I pause so I can agonizingly snatch the gun from my pocket and point it at the wall next to me. "I'll fucking kill them."

Matt's eyes are as wide and twice as bright as the moon right now. The clippers in his hand fall to the carpeted floor with a thud. His lower lip quivers adorably and I kneel down to eye level.

"A-are you on crack?" Matt asks me.

"Do you chain smoke?"

"I guess so…?"

"And I don't do crack so we're good!" I say cheerfully. "Now what do you say?"

"Mello, I really… I mean I _really_ don't know…" Doubt is written all over his face. I want to rid him of it. I want him to spend the rest of his life with me doubtlessly.

"Matt…" I start. My voice is uncharacteristically mild. I sound so serious. I sound so… Amorous. I guess this is what love does to someone, huh?

It puts you out of character and lets Near get laid.

"I'll quit the case for good. I'll try not to kill so many god-awful people. I just want to take you someplace better; someplace where you and I can live together forever." I pause and give him a look that I hope he can tell reads _I mean __**forever**_. I set my gun on the floor and push it away. "If I have you, everything else doesn't mean jack shit to me, Matt."

"M-Mello… What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks exasperatedly. I deflate, defeated. I give up. I just pretty much said everything I wanted to, yet still he thinks I am on crack. What a guy. What. A. Guy.

"Did I mention I love you?" I added with a sad smile.

He blinks a few times and lets a smile control his face as he touches the non-burned side of my face with his light fingertips. He presses his lips to mine gently. "You're pathetic," he whispers against my mouth.

"You love it," I remind him.

"Fuck yeah."

He crushes his lips against mine forcefully, passionately, wrapping his arms around my neck. I feel dizzy. I remember something about being burned badly, though. What was it? There's this weird floating sensation that's like an explosion in my mouth as Matt's tongue challenges mine. I want to laugh. The beauty of this moment, Matt holding on to me for dear life, me gripping his hips tightly, keeping him so close that there is no space between us at all. His body is hot. His mouth is practically steaming.

Best. Make-out. Ever.

**AN: It was supposed to be the ending to a story I had been working on previously called "In The Worst Way" which I took down for shitty-tude. This is the ending. And I made it a nice, short oneshot. Ain't that darling?**


End file.
